


What's Past is Prologue

by EndoftheLine_36N79W



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Derek "Nursey" Nurse is Unchill, Fluff, M/M, Minor Chris "Chowder" Chow/Caitlin Farmer, Misunderstandings, Multi, PolyFrogs, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Use Your Words, author can't decide whether to use real names or hockey nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 14:37:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16976424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoftheLine_36N79W/pseuds/EndoftheLine_36N79W
Summary: William Poindexter has never met his neighbor, the mysterious Chow, but they share a wall between their bedrooms. It's a thin wall, and Chow apparently has an especially active sex life. Will isn't jealous until he meets him.





	1. Chow, You Kinky Motherfucker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solarperigee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarperigee/gifts).



> Parts concerning tech startups and acquisitions are unrealistic, but realistically unrealistic (my first job was at a tech startup, which has since been acquired). Many thanks to my beta reader / literal fiancee for reassuring me, "Even if you don't believe it's any good, it's definitely not that bad." Many thanks to the month of November for sucking.

William Poindexter has just had the longest day of his adult life. He had meetings straight through from seven-thirty in the morning until six in the evening. At his job as a software developer-slash-entrepreneur, he’s been in meetings for weeks as one of the Big tech companies considers buying his start-up. Because of his forty-five minute commute, he left the apartment at six. And because of all the meetings, he’s dressed up, black slacks and a white button-up. He’s rolled up the sleeves and he forgot his rain jacket at the office so the shirt is sticking to his skin in the rain.

It had been a rough morning from the get-go, rainy and dark, and he had stepped in a puddle, soaking his socks. For the last two nights (and many other nights besides) his next-door neighbor had enjoyed hours of raucous sex and the noise had kept him up, woken him up again and again. He doesn’t know his neighbor - from the mailboxes he knows his last name is Chow.

He arrives home in a drizzle. The days are finally getting longer but it’s already dark and the street is lit by dirty orange street lamps. He’s a redhead and his hair practically glows in the odd orange light. His apartment is in an old, three-story Victorian building that has two apartments on each floor, one in each wing. The front door has a separate lock that sticks, especially in the rain.

Will’s disappointed to find it locked. “Chow, you kinky motherfucker,” he curses under his breath. He hears a cough behind him and turns as he pushes the door open. There’s a tall black man coming up to the door behind him - not someone Will has seen before. He’s the kind of beautiful Will would remember.

“Is he your neighbor?” the stranger asks. He’s as tall as Will, which is unusual at six-four, and nearly as broad. He’s not wearing a raincoat, just long-sleeved plaid flannel, a scarf, and a beanie over his hair.

Will grimaces, “Yeah. I don’t know him, though.” He holds the door for the other man.

The man raises one perfectly arched eyebrow. “You just know he’s a kinky motherfucker?” he asks as they both head up the stairs.

Will flushes high in his cheeks. “The walls are pretty thin,” he defends himself. “Sometimes he’s loud at night.”

The man tilts his head. “How loud?”

“I just had a really hard day,” Will groans reluctantly. “And I haven’t slept in three nights and last night it was just, all night, I mean -” He stops as they reach the third floor.

The man smiles at him as he pulls out a key and unlocks the door beside Will’s. So, the door belonging to the mysterious Chow.

He smirks at Will as he opens the door and calls inside, “Honey, I’m home,” and doesn’t break eye contact as the door shuts. He winks at Will through the last crack in the door.

Will stands in the hallway, blushing red and gaping for a moment. As if the day could get any worse. He sighs and goes into his apartment. He drinks a full bottle of water and tosses it into the recycling bin. He’ll need to take that out soon. Not in the rain, though.

On autopilot, he washes the coffee mugs in the sink and sets them in the drainer to dry.

He’s staring into the refrigerator, trying to figure out something he can cook so he doesn’t order pizza for the third time this week when someone knocks at the door. 

He lets the fridge drift shut and goes to answer the door.

It’s the stranger from before and an Asian man, who immediately grins widely and says, “Hi, I’m Chris Chow, and this is my partner Derek Nurse.”

The other man waves, smirks. He’s taken off the wet flannel and the beanie and scarf, revealing a black tank top and gorgeous curly hair. In spite of himself, Will notices that his shoulders are almost as wide as Will’s and his arms are - great.

“Uh, hi,” Will says. “I’m Will Poindexter.”

Chris continues, “I’m really sorry we kept you up! I didn’t know, uh,” he scratches the side of his head and a blush rises in his cheeks, “that the walls were that thin.” He looks embarrassed but not that embarrassed and Derek just looks like the cat that ate the canary. After all, clearly Will isn’t having any loud sex.

Will blushes bright red. “It’s fine,” he grits out.

“Anyway, as an apology, we wanted to see if - have you eaten dinner? It’s just that I just ordered pizza because the oven is broken and I always order extra so, if you hadn’t, we could have you over for dinner.” 

It should be a strange offer but the mysterious Chow - Chris’s - face is friendly and open and handsome. Will’s neighbor looks like a model and Derek, the stranger from the hall, looks like a fairytale prince. On the heels of a nightmarish day, it’s disorienting, and that’s the only reason Will can imagine that he agrees.

“Great!” Chris says. “You can just come on over whenever, if you were going to change your clothes or anything.” He blushes a little. “Not that you should or anything, it’s just that your shirt is wet from the rain. I mean, not that - ” He cuts himself off.

“Yeah,” Will says finally. “I do need to change.”

“Right!” Chris blurts out. “Great, well, you can come on over when you’re ready! Um, do you like pizza? I mean, obviously, you said pizza was - but what kind of pizza do you usually eat?”

“Literally anything,” Dex admits, too overcome with the strangeness of the situation to be anything but bluntly honest.

“Great!” Chris says. “We usually get one that’s veggie and one that’s cheese and one that’s just a huge garlic bread and then I always order an extra cheese one and I do have salad, mostly because my mom says I’ll get scurvy if I don’t eat some vegetables, so-” Derek elbows him and he stops abruptly. “I mean, great! We’ll, uh, we’ll see you in a bit.”

Derek smirks. “See you, Poindexter.”

Will shuts the door. He stares at it for a minute, wondering if this is a sleep deprived hallucination. But if it’s a hallucination that comes with pizza, well. Might as well take things as they come.

He looks in his pantry for a bottle of wine because his mother would be ashamed of him for going to dinner without an offering. Dex hears his mother’s voice in the back of his head - when you’re giving wine as a hostess gift, take two bottles -- one to share and one as a gift. In the bottom of his pantry he has two bottles of Trader Joe’s two-buck chuck (a decent red) and three nice bottles that he was given by the CEO of the company acquiring his start-up. He debates with himself the merits of each as a hostess -- host -- gift and, guilty, selects the expensive wine. After all it’s a two-way apology dinner (three-way?): Sorry we’re having loud sex and you’re having none slash sorry I complained to you about your loud sex with my neighbor.

He sees himself in the mirror and mutters, “I should change.” He goes to his room and sheds his slacks and work shirt and stares into his closet. No etiquette book or fashion advice from his older sister prepared him for this scenario. What to wear for an impromptu apology pizza dinner with your hot neighbor and his hot boyfriend who have loud sex on the other side of your bedroom wall. He’s still wearing his work clothes so he strips and tosses them in the hamper. He nearly tears apart his closet looking for his good jeans (his date jeans, more like) which he hasn’t worn since he moved here. They are dark-wash jeans that hug his thighs, chosen by his older sister. He digs through his dresser and chooses a faded Henley with his college football logo.

He washes his face and stares at his hair in the mirror. It’s unruly from the rain and humidity and longer than usual. He hasn’t had time to get it cut so it’s a mess of ginger curls. He tries to keep it short enough that the curl doesn’t show but there’s nothing to be done about that.

An apology dinner with your loud neighbor, he reminds himself, that’s all. And his boyfriend. Your surprisingly attractive neighbor and his hot boyfriend who are clearly not shy about their sex life. He shakes his head to clear it. Hopefully he can escape in time to watch the hockey game.

He grabs the two nicest bottles of wine and heads out the door and three steps down the hall. He hesitates in front of the door.


	2. Pizza? Hot Neighbor? Poindexter?

Chris is in the kitchen staring hopelessly at the again-broken stove when he hears from the door open and Derek call out, “Honey, I’m home!” The door slams and Derek swans into the kitchen, dropping his hat, scarf, and flannel onto the table as he goes. He bumps his hip on the counter (as he does most days) and curses.

Chris eyes his boyfriend sideways, “And hello to you too?” he says with a questioning inflection.

“I met your hot neighbor,” Derek says. “Is the stove broken again?”

“Yeah,” Chris sighs. “Pizza? Hot neighbor? Poindexter?” He knows the last name from the mailboxes, and he sees the tall, built redhead stomping down the stairs or staring at his mail often enough.

“Next door, yeah. Pizza, yeah.” Derek drops into a kitchen chair. “He was cursing your name at the front door.”

Chris turns to him in alarm. “What? Me? I’ve never even met him!”

Derek laughs. “I came up behind him at the front door and he was cursing at the lock and I heard ‘Chow, you kinky motherfucker.’ ”

Chris covers his mouth, “Oh, no, oh, can he hear us?”

Derek smirks, “Yep. He said it before he realized I was coming in to your apartment.”

Chris sighs worriedly, “Oh, he probably thinks I’m -”

“A kinky motherfucker, apparently,” Derek says drily. “But you were right, he’s hot.” He has a contemplative look on his face and Chris watches him suspiciously.

“What’re you thinking, Nursey?”

“Well,” Derek says, “if we have to order pizza anyway, we might as well invite him over for dinner. To apologize, you know.”

Chris brightens considerably. “Of course!”

Derek shrugs, “And, you know, he was totally checking me out.”

“No way,” Chris says immediately. “You literally say that about everyone you meet.”

Derek shrugs languidly and bangs his elbow on the chair. He shakes his fingers out with a grimace. “What can I say, I have universal appeal.”

Chris laughs. “So, dinner?” he says. “We should go over and invite him. I’ll wait until - I’ll order the pizza after.”

Derek stands up and offers Chris his arm. “Shall we?”

Chris laughs and takes his arm. “Yeah, Nursey, escort me to the door.”

Nursey drops his arm when they get to the door marked 3B and knocks.

\----------

Chris pulls out his cell to dial the pizza delivery as soon as the door shuts behind Will. “Should I get more than that?” he asks Derek as they reenter his apartment.

Derek shrugs, “You can never have too much pizza.”

Chris orders two of each (just to be safe). “Will you make the salad?” he hisses at Derek, covering the mic on his phone while the woman on the line reads his order back. “Yes, that’s right,” he tells her.

“I do make an excellent salad,” Derek says with a grin. It’s his favorite euphemism for homosexuality, dating back to the fifties or so.

Chris rolls his eyes and tells the woman on the pizza line, “Cash, please. Uh, yes, that’s the address. Apartment 3A. Thank you!” he hangs up. “Just make the salad, Nursey!”

“Tomatoes?” Derek asks, rummaging through the fridge.

“Only if they’re cherry tomatoes,” Chris says. “Nothing you have to chop.”

Derek pulls spinach, cherry tomatoes, and feta cheese out of the fridge. “I’m wounded, Chris. Wounded.”

“No,” Chris says with a grin, “you will be wounded if you try to chop tomatoes again, though.”

Derek heaves a sigh. “I got your hot neighbor to come have dinner with us and this is the thanks I get,” he says dramatically.

“You can’t keep calling him that!” Chris admonishes. “We know his name now, and besides, you don’t know if he’s even queer, much less,” he gestures. “You know, poly, or anything.” He unloads the dish rack and stows it under the sink. “At least we have enough clean plates.”

“Don’t dash my hopes like that,” Derek says. “We need a friend, anyway. Other than our itinerant college friends we don’t hang out with anyone else.”

Chris grins, “You don’t,” he says. “I have work friends.”

“Yes, well, you’re a ray of sunshine and I’m a deep, dark pit,” Derek says. “I’m sure the hot neighbor will want to be your friend and want nothing to do with me.”

Chris swats him with a dishtowel.

A knock comes at the door and they make eye contact. “It can’t be pizza,” Chris says. “Too soon.”

“You get it,” Derek hisses. “I haven’t even put on a better shirt.”

“Gosh, Nursey,” Chris teases him, “It’s like you’re shy or something.” He shoves Derek toward the bedroom and goes to answer the door.

It’s hot neighbor, Will Poindexter, standing awkwardly with two bottles of wine tucked tucked under one arm. “Hey,” he says. “I, uh, brought wine? As a thank you, for dinner.”

Chris smiles widely at him. “You didn’t have to! But come in, you can put it in the kitchen.” He leads him through the apartment and gestures to the kitchen table before he realizes that Derek’s shirt, hat, and scarf are still taking up residence there. He scoops them up. “Sorry! Nursey’s always leaving his shi- stuff everywhere.” He glances back down the hall. “One second, let me put it up.”

He hurries down the hall, leaving Will alone to shift his weight from foot to foot as he looks around the kitchen to one side and the living room to the other. They have a square kitchen table, two people comfortably or four at a stretch, and the same refrigerator, microwave, and oven. The floor plan must be different but that’s to be expected in an old house that’s been converted to apartments. The living room is oddly shaped with six uneven sides but they’ve fit a full-size couch against one wall and a flatscreen tv on the other wall. There’s a little desk under the only window in the room and one of the kitchen chairs is at the desk.

The couch looks old but comfortable. A hand-me-down or a thrift-store find or maybe off the side of the street. It’s covered in throw pillows and three brightly colored fleece blankets.

Chris comes back with Derek in tow. It looks like Derek has traded jeans for black joggers and changed the black undershirt for a college hockey t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. If anything it’s too small for him, tight across his chest. 

“Hi again, Poindexter,” Derek greets him. “Find the place okay?” he asks.

“Well, your directions weren’t great,” Dex deadpans in return. “I took a wrong turn and nearly ended up in Jersey.”

“God forbid,” Derek says.

Chris smothers a laugh. “Anyway, the pizza should be here soon!” he says brightly. “And Nursey made a salad, if you want to start with that.”

Dex nods, “Sure. Uh, is it, do you prefer Nursey?” he asks Derek.

“Oh!” Chris says. “Sorry, I forgot. We played hockey together in college and so his nickname is Nursey. Mine’s Chowder but, um, I think I prefer Chris now.”

“Mine was Dex,” Will offers.

“You played hockey?” Chris asks, moving to portion the salad out into bowls.

“Um, not since high school,” Dex explains. “I played football in college. But,” he nods at Nursey’s shirt, “you two played hockey for Samwell?”

Derek sets plates and silverware at the kitchen table and gestures to Dex that he can have a seat. “Yes,” he says. “I’m a defenseman and Chowder was the goalie.”

“Samwell,” Dex says again as he sits down, “Were you there when they won the Frozen Four, then?”

“Two years in a row,” Chris says proudly, handing bowls to Derek, who sets one in front of Dex and takes a seat himself.

“He’s leaving out the best part,” Derek says. “Chris was captain our senior year.”

Chris joins them at the table with his own salad. He blushes slightly.

“Oh!” Dex says. “I remember that. Samwell was, like, the only division one team with a goalie as a captain, right after they changed that rule.”

Derek grins proudly, “That’s Chris.”

“Drinks!” Chris exclaims before he can say anything, standing up. “I should get drinks. Um, we don’t - Will, we don’t have anything really except water and beer and the wine you brought. Will brought wine,” he says to Derek. 

“Oh, let’s serve the wine,” Derek says. “I have news, Chow, I forgot to tell you. Celebratory news.”

“Water’s fine, too,” Will says awkwardly. “Can I, uh, can I help you?”

Chris hands him one of the wine bottles and a corkscrew. “Sure,” he says, “you can serve.” He passes them wine glasses.

Will uncorks the bottle and pours three glasses.

Derek looks at the bottle and whistles. “Nice wine, too,” he says. “Classy, Poindexter.”

Will blushes.

Chowder rejoins them with glasses of water.

“I feel like I should admit,” Will says, “the wine is regifted from, um, work.”

“Oh, what do you do, then?” Derek asks interestedly.

“I’m a software engineer,” Dex says. “I, uh, I actually run -- help run -- a start-up? It’s called UnScramble.”

Chris drops his fork and coughs. “Oh, shit,” he says. “Um, Will, I work for ACME. Derek, do you remember I was telling you, about the start-up we’re acquiring?” 

Derek laughs. “What a small world.”

“Oh, no,” Will says. “Your boss gave me this wine, then.”

Chris covers his mouth, smile visible in his eyes. “Well, he’s -- he certainly has good taste in wine. And start-ups.”

Derek snorts inelegantly. “So Dex, speech-to-text and natural language understanding, then?”

Dex nods, “Yeah. I got into it hoping to improve accessibility. Speech to text and text to speech are, uh, important for a lot of marginalized communities, for people with some disabilities or illnesses, for computer and technology accessibility, so…” He shrugs, trails off. He has an elevator pitch but he never likes whipping it out in casual situations. It makes him feel like a salesman.

The doorbell rings; it’s the pizza. 

\----------

Will helps them clean up after dinner and Chris offers, “We were gonna watch the hockey game, if you want to hang out.”

Will’s tired but he was going to watch it anyway, and besides Chris’s TV is bigger and the company is good. “Sure, I was planning to watch it.”

They go sit in the living room, Chris on the couch and Will settling nervously into an armchair. He’s never at ease in someone else’s space even if he’s only on the other side of the wall from his own apartment.

Derek disappears down the hall and reappears only after Chris has turned on the TV. He’s carrying a children’s book that he hands to Chris.

“I forgot, babe, the proof came in today,” he says, flopping down next to Chris.

“Awesome!” Chris takes the book.

“Is that -” Will pauses. “Um, sorry, is that one of DeeDee Nurse’s books?”

Derek freezes and turns just his head slowly to look at Will. “Yes.”

“I buy them for my nieces,” Will explains. “Which one -?”

“It’s new,” Derek says.

Will leans forward in his seat and looks from the book in Chris’s hands to Derek and back. “Oh my god,” he says. “You’re - DeeDee is a pen name isn’t it?”

“I prefer to call it my nome de plume,” Derek says, forced casualness evident in his tone. “You, um, you buy them for your nieces.”

Will nods. “All of them,” he says. “Oh my god, I can’t believe - I’m trying really hard not to be weird, here, but they’re the best, they’re the only books that,” he gestures emphatically. “Two of my nieces are adopted, and two of them are biracial, and one of them is trans, and I’ve always tried to buy them books they could relate to, you know, and it was always so hard but she -- oh, shit, no -- you write about all these things that I or my brothers and sisters never knew how to talk about with them.”

Chris is grinning beside Derek on the couch and he nudges him. “See, Nursey, I told you you had fans.” 

Will blushes bright, violently red and leans back in his chair, staring at the TV even though it’s still just commercials.

“That’s chill,” Nursey forces out, determinedly staring at a spot on the wall above the TV, like if he lets his gaze fall then his emotions might show.

Chowder laughs, looking between them.


	3. You’re Sunshine and I am Just a Rain Cloud

The acquisition goes through and suddenly Will’s not sure what to do with himself. He doesn’t have to work eighty hour weeks and he has more money than he knows what to do with. He works in the same room as Chris.

When he gets lost in code at the end of the day Chris taps him on the shoulder and smiles his wide, bright smile until Will agrees to head out, and by the time they get back to the apartment Derek is either there, writing at the desk on his laptop with a sharp pencil behind his ear or on his way from his office.

Chris’s apartment isn’t that different from Will’s but it’s more comfortable, lived-in. He spends more and more time there. His refrigerator isn’t empty but only because the three of them cook together more often than he ever cooked by himself. He fixes their oven and tries to explain pilot lights, but every time the flame goes out Derek texts him or knocks and pouts until he fixes it.

He goes running with Nursey in the mornings because if he doesn’t, Nursey gives him shit all day. They race each other, both nearly pathological in their need for competition, and Will’s in better shape than he has been since college.

Nursey’s newest book is published four months later and they invite Will over for a celebration. He gets to meet Derek’s illustrator, a tiny Vietnamese woman they introduce as “Lardo,” and his lawyer, a gangly mustachioed man named… Shitty?

“Shitty?” Will asks Chris under his breath. “Let me guess, hockey nickname?” 

Chris laughs and nods. “Lardo and Shitty work f- with Derek. They’re from our college team at Samwell. Lardo was the manager. Uh, we have a couple of close friends from the team still but they couldn’t come tonight.”

They eat a huge pot of spaghetti and drink until they’re all warm and loose with it. They’re sitting around the living room with a plate of brownies - half double fudge and half double marijuana - and plastic cups of dark red wine. Will’s a little crossfaded and he’s not used to that.

Shitty’s ranting about something Will is only half-following, closeted professional athletes and enforced masculinity? “Lardo did an exhibit,” Shitty explains, “remember, last year? Anyway, it kills me, y’know, this constant certainty that I could be doing more but. You know, there’s Jackalope, so we’re all intimately familiar with the NHL and it’s... Then there’s the fuckin’ NFL and that just seems toxic, man, toxic masculinity and rampant homophobia.” He stops for a breath.

“My ex plays in the NFL,” Will says idly.

The group around him goes eerily silent.

Will freezes when he realizes what he’s said. “Cheerleads?” he tries in vain to redirect.

Nursey sits up straighter. “This is an important moment,” he says. “We’ve unlocked the Poindexter backstory.”

Will is steadily reddening. “Um,” he starts. “Um.”

Shitty points at Nursey. “Hush, you,” he says. “Will. Willy. Poindexter. You do not have to tell us anything.”

Will laughs nervously. “I know,” he says finally. “It’s - we played together in college. It’s not, uh, important.”

Even a drunk Derek Nurse can take a hint sometimes, so he just raises an eyebrow to Will. An invitation to say more.

Will sighs. “It took me a long time, but when I was a junior I started going to the varsity athlete’s group at the LGBT center. That’s how I knew him. He was even more in the closet that I was, then, and… you know, NFL.” He waves a hand dismissively.

“Thank you for trusting us with this moment,” Chris says earnestly.

\----------

Will goes over to him Derek the end of the night, where he’s curled on the couch, pleased as punch. “Congratulations. I, uh, I brought you this.” He thrusts a gift bag toward him and leaves the apartment.

Derek opens it: an expensive bottle of bourbon, the kind Will never buys, and a drawing. Derek doesn’t recognize it at first -- it’s four little girls being read to by a stick figure with red hair. He looks closer and the book is labeled -- it’s one of his.

He turns it over and there’s a photograph taped to the back, of the same scene: it’s Dex reading to his nieces, but he’s rendered himself as a stick figure in the drawing.

“Choooow,” he calls from the couch. “Chow, he gave me a present!”

Chow walks in from the kitchen to look. His smile lights up his face. “Oh my gosh, that’s the sweetest thing!”

“He hates me,” Nursey whines, setting the picture down on the side table so he can slide down to lay on the couch. “He hates me, so I don’t know why he would give me such a thoughtful gift. He hates me, he only likes you,” he moans dramatically. “You’re sunshine,” he says. “And I am just a rain cloud over his red head. He’s like November, the red leaves and the golden sunshine, and then there’s me.” He sighs morosely. “Just a raincloud.”

Christ sits down next to his head and strokes his arm. “You’re absurd,” he says, grinning. “Will doesn’t hate you.”


	4. Chow, You Kinky Motherfucker - Reprise

Will is showering when the fire alarm goes off. It starts from the direction of Chris’s apartment, and Will leaps out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his waist without drying off and runs through the kitchen, grabbing his home fire extinguisher on the way. 

He bursts into Chris’s apartment to the sight of Chris standing back from the stove with his hands raised as something greasy on the surface of the stove burns. “I tried to fix the pilot light!” Chris shouts.

Dex triggers the extinguisher and smothers the fire in foam.

The fire is out and the alarms silence one by one, as the smoke clears.

Dex is breathing hard and Chris’s eyes are wide. “Oh my god,” Chris says. “Oh my god, Will, thank you.”

“Never try to light the pilot light again,” Will says ruefully. “I’ll do it.”

Chris nods.

“Where’s Nurse?” Dex asks. “He always texts me something pitiful when the light is out.”

“Boston,” Chris says. “He’s doing a book event.” The tension is gradually bleeding out of his frame and he takes a couple of steps over to slump against Will’s shoulder. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, “just, I just need a minute.”

Dex rubs his shoulder comfortingly. “Yeah, Chris, it’s okay.”

\-----------

Derek is still out of town that Friday night. Will knows because he asked Chris, and Derek is coming back on Saturday night.

So when Dex is awakened at one in the morning by sex noises from next door, it takes him a minute to realize why that seems anachronistic.

He sits up, rubbing his eyes. “Come on, guys,” he mutters. Then, “Shit.” Because Derek is still out of town.

Dex’s family knows him for his temper. He is better at keeping it under control now, but something about this particular combination of righteous anger on behalf of Derek, and jealousy on behalf of - someone - is like gasoline to a lit match.

He pulls on sweatpants and storms out the door and over to Chris’s. He pounds on the door and hears worried noises from inside before Chris wrenches the door open and there’s a woman behind him.

Will stares at him, arms crossed over his bare chest. “What the fuck, Chris? Did you forget I would hear you cheating on Derek?”

Chris covers his mouth. “Ooh, oh no,” he exclaims. “Oh, no, Will, I promise that’s - it’s not like - oh, no.” He turns to the woman. “Uh, Cait, this is Will Poindexter, our neighbor. Will, this is Caitlyn Farmer, my, uh, my girlfriend? She’s visiting from San Francisco. Um, Will, maybe you can come in? And I can call Nursey and he can, uh, he can tell you?”

Will glares and part of him wants to stay the hell in the hall to make a point, but he follows Chris into the apartment anyway.

The woman waves at him tentatively. “Uh, nice to meet you,” she says with a smile. “I promise, I’m not a homewrecker.”

Will refuses to sit down. Chris comes back with his phone and has it on speaker, dialing Nursey.

“Hello?” a half-asleep Derek answers the phone. “Chris, what’s wrong?”

“So,” Chris says, voice a little high pitched and face pale, “Will’s here,” he says. “Um, he heard me and Cait? And without you here I didn’t think he would believe me…”

“Oh,” Derek says, sounding more awake. “Oh, Will, it’s okay,” he says gently.

Will just waits.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Derek assures him, “We’re poly. Polyamorous. How much, do you -”

“Right,” Will interrupts. He’s nodding, jaw clenched, but he realizes he has to vocalize for Derek’s benefit. He’s steadily reddening and avoiding eye contact. He stands. “Yeah, I - I should go, uh, let you guys - do your thing.”

Derek sighs audibly on the line and Will bolts.

His phone is lighting up with texts when he gets back to his room, all from Derek.

_hey._  
i’m up now so.  
chill.  
did you want to talk about it? 

Will lays down across his bed, feet hanging off.

**I just didn’t know.**

_we could have told you sooner_  
i mean  
you’re our best friend  
i don’t make friends very easily so  
not really  
anyway it’s chill ain’t no big thang 

Will snorts to himself.

**“Ain’t no big thang”?**

_i’m a romantic you know this about me_  
Chris is one of those people who brings joy to literally everyone around him  
he loves me and i love him and there’s nothing incomplete about that but  
it’s also not the end of the fucking universe  
there are a lot of people either of us or both of us might love  
Cait’s a delight 

**I get it.  
Really.  
I didn’t mean to freak out.**

_we should maybe have thought of that  
given how we met_

**I used to have a lot of anger management issues. I mean, worse than now.  
You’re my best friends, too.**

_you know Chris  
words of affirmation all day yo <3_

Will chuckles

**Oh my god that’s why you’re so loud.  
I say again. Chow, you kinky motherfucker.**


	5. Tis the Season

Will wakes up at eight AM still sprawled diagonally across his bed with his phone on his chest. He rubs his eyes and reluctantly revisits the night before. He chews at the inside of his lip, a nervous habit that resurfaces when he’s feeling guilty about his temper.

He texts Derek: **Is Cait allergic to anything?**

Derek Nurse always wakes up when his phone rings or dings or vibrates. When he’s out of town, he never puts it in do-not-disturb. So he answers.

_wtf poindexter r u doing  
but no_

Will doesn’t answer right away, just goes to the kitchen to survey his cupboards. He pulls out ingredients and turns on the oven to 350 degrees.

**Muffins.**

It doesn’t take him long to churn out twelve chocolate chip muffins and twelve mini (crustless) quiche. He lets the muffins cool while the quiches bake and then turns them out into a basket lined with a red and white plaid kitchen towel. (Why does Dex have a basket? Well. Picnics. Central Park?)

He pops the finished mini quiches into a glass tupperware and puts them in the basket and takes them out into the hall to set them down in front of Chris’s door. He isn’t going to knock but the door opens in his face.

“Will!” Chris exclaims. “I thought I heard someone out here. I, uh, it’s good you’re here!”

Will blushes again. “Oh,” he says futilely, “I wasn’t going to - I was just dropping them off.” He holds the basket out. “Breakfast,” he says lamely.

Cait’s head pops into view around Chris. “No, come in!” she insists. “We’ll all eat.”

Derek must have told them he was coming.

\----------

As uncomfortably guilty as Will is at the start, Chris and Cait are so genuinely kind that he feels better for every minute he’s there. They sit around the square kitchen table munching on muffins and mini quiche.

“I live in San Francisco,” Cait explains. “I don’t get to see Chris that much but we’ve been together, one way or another, since college. Like, the beginning of college.”

“I literally ran into her,” Chris says, chagrined. “Nursey and I were racing our hockey captains on the quad, like a chicken race? So Nursey was on my shoulders and you know how he can be, uh -”

“Klutzy?” Will supplies.

Cait snorts. “Yeah, he’s beauty and he’s grace, that boy. You know,” she says conspiratorially, leaning over toward Will, “I set them up. I mean, they were like best friends. But - oh, actually, have you not heard this story?”

Will shakes his head, and Chris scrunches up his face. “Now you have to remember I was not very smooth when I was eighteen,” he tells Will. “And not very quick on the uptake!”

Will nods and adds, “Chris. When I was eighteen, I was still angry that cute boys existed. Like they existed just to torture me. I would’ve hated Nurse. Well not like - I wouldn’t’ve known how to get along with him.”

Cait laughs. “Oh, he was so much worse in college,” she says gleefully. “Clueless rich boy and every other word out of his mouth was ‘Chill.’” She clears her throat. “Anyway, story time. It kind of all started because Derek’s birthday is on Valentine’s day.”

Will snorts, “Of course it is.”

Cait nods. “God bless him,” she says fondly. “So it’s coming up on Valentine’s day and we’ve been dating a few months and we’re like, totally in love in the way only eighteen-year-olds can be. So we’re making all these grandiose romantic plans, sort of, whatever we can think of, but we’re not very good at it. Like we’re trying to get a table at this pretentious restaurant in Boston because we think that’s what’s supposed to be a perfect date. So we’re hanging out with Derek on the roof of the hockey house and talking about it and Derek’s like, ‘Yo, C,’” she imitates, “ ‘that place has mad tiny portions; Cait, you’ll hate it.’” She pauses. “Because we were all student athletes. So, you know, food. Then Derek says, ‘Chill guys. If you’re going into Boston then you should go to the Shakespeare garden. That place is dope even in the winter. And there’s this little Greek place…’” Cait gestures, yadda yadda. “And he tells us exactly where to go. And then a few days before we find out his birthday is on Valentine’s day and he’s not doing anything. He’s all, ‘Chill, dudes, everyone has plans.’ So we devised a plan to trick him into coming to Boston with us. Invited him to brunch and just took him with us. He recited Shakespeare in the Shakespeare garden and showed us all his favorite foods, at the Greek place, and then took us to this ice cream place. It was the most fun any of us had had in ages, like, if ever. And I could see, Chris and Derek, how happy it made them to make each other happy. And how happy it made me?”

Chris blushes at this part of the story.

“It was like neither of them noticed, though! Even though we started spending all this time together, the three of us,” Cait clucks her tongue. “And of course I knew Chris was queer, and Derek too, and they’re both, no shit, beautiful, and it was obvious to me that they were into each other. So I told Chris, I said, I know you want to take Derek on more dates, so you should do that.” She looks at Chris.

“I wasn’t taking her seriously at first,” Chris admits. “Sure, I had this monster crush on Derek, but he was my best friend and I always love my best friends. It took Cait like pointing it out and, um, making it an option? For me to even understand what I wanted. It never even occurred to me that I might have more than one partner. Like, life partner? Romantic partner? I had friends in high school and college who were poly so I sort of knew, but… I started dating Derek and it was perfect. I mean it was a mess but it was perfect. Completely different. Hard in all these other ways. Most of my friends didn’t know I dated men so it was this extra fraught… whatever.”

Will looks curious, like he’s biting his lip, so Chris tells him, “You can ask, Will. As long as - I mean I trust you. To be, um, sensitive.”

Will scratches his head. “I’m glad you know me now, and not when I was eighteen. No on would have trusted me to be sensitive. I was just - Cait, were you, or uh, are you, dating Derek too?”

“It’s a little less straightforward,” Cait says. “Derek and I are not, like, romantic partners per se. We are incredibly close, and we love each other very much. We are partners in many ways, even sometimes sexual, but we are really two incredibly close friends who are both totally in love with Chris Chow.” She takes Chris’s hand, smiling. “It was endlessly complicated in college, with scheduling and all of us being not really grown up yet. It took a while to really appreciate the different ways we all give and receive love.”

“Like love languages,” Will says.

“Yeah!” Chris nods enthusiastically. “So like Derek loves to give gifts. And quality time. He really values spending time with people he loves.”

Will inclines his head. “And he says yours is words of affirmation.”

The tips of Chris’s ears redden.

“Exactly,” Cait says. “So for months these idiot boys are convinced that the other doesn’t love them, is just putting up with them, and Derek tries to fix everything by buying gifts. Because they’re expressing love the ways they know how to, and not understanding what they get back. So once we learned about that we all got a lot better at expressing our emotions.”

Chris looks at Will intently. Like he’s solving a puzzle and checking his answer. “What’s yours, Will?”

When Will blushes, he’s a much brighter red than when Chris does. A vibrant blush offset further by his bright hair. “Acts of service, mostly,” he says. “Quality time? I never had an easy time taking compliments or gifts at face value.” He shrugs.

Cait turns her eyes to the breakfast pointedly.

Will clears his throat. “So is it really different now that you live so far?” he asks Cait.

She nods. “We all three lived together for a little while,” she explains. “The last summer after graduation, before we went on to adulting. And it was nice, if also a complete mess. But I wanted some different things in my professional life, and… I love Chris just as much no matter where I live. Our, like, long-distance relationship is great. Texting and snail mail and care packages. It’s just a little different because Chris has Derek and now I live with my partner Ruby.” She shrugs. “It’s not like Chris is my husband. Chris is more like Derek’s husband if anything. But I don’t want a husband -- I want Chris and Ruby and in a different way Derek, and I want to live my life my way. We’re happy.”

“I’m very glad to meet you,” Will says sincerely.

\----------

When Derek gets home late that evening they have all, even Will, waited in the apartment to have dinner with him. But they’re a little high on leftover weed from Nursey’s lawyer.

They’re all eating curry and naan from the closest, best Indian restaurant. Nursey has given them the highlights of his trip when Will finally gives in to his curiosity and asks.

“Were you really an unbearable rich boy in college?”

Derek chokes on a mouthful of water. “Farms,” he hisses. “Uh. Yeah. My, uh, my parents are… quite wealthy.”

“Is that how you can afford to be an author full time?” Will asks. “I know - sorry this is sort of insensitive but my family is very, um, not wealthy, and I always wonder how people can - stuff that pays badly.” He’s bright red again and looks borderline ashamed.

Derek laughs drily. “Sort of. Don’t worry, Chow’s not my sugar daddy.”

Chris looks at him reproachfully.

Derek sighs. “So I don’t actually just write,” he says finally. “I actually own the publishing house. There was no one doing diverse children’s literature and I, uh, used my trust fund -” he grimaces at himself - “to start the imprint.”

Will freezes. “Oh my god,” he says. “That’s. That makes so much more sense. That’s awesome, dude.”

Farmer kicks Chris under the table.

\----------

Sprawled on the couch next to Derek, Chris and Cait piled in the armchair, watching Die Hard 2 just because it’s on TV, it’s the most settled Will has felt since he went to college.

“It’s not that the Die Hard sequels are bad,” Cait says. “It’s just that they’re not really Die Hard.”

“And objectively,” Derek interjects, “of all the sequels, Die Harder isn’t even the best one. I mean, Die Hard with a Vengeance is - I love that movie. It’s got some pretty nineties tropes around race, but you know, I give it a pass I probably shouldn’t give it but I still really enjoy the movie. Samuel L. is in it, and his character’s name is Zeus.” He’s a little high now, too, and waxing eloquent. “Maybe it’s not, maybe Die Hard with a Vengeance is better than Die Hard.” He stops for a moment. “I mean, no, that’s blasphemy, right? The original is the best, and the fifth is the worst, just a waste of space, and the fourth one is nearly that bad. Oh! We can watch the original at Christmas! That’s my favorite Christmas movie.”

Dex can’t keep the smile off his face as he objects, “Come on, Derek, calling it a Christmas movie is generous.”

“The spirit of the season! The spirit of the season is generous,” Derek insists. “The spirit of the season is love, and kindness, and action movies!”


	6. Chapter 6

Will wakes up in the middle of the night to banging next door and Derek's voice audible through the wall murmuring compliments and encouragement and "Chris" again and again. He wonders not for the first time why they never drown it out with music. Soundproofing. If Will was still the blunt and awkward twenty-year-old he would have soundproofed their room without asking by now. Not because it's - not because it bothers - he feel like a voyeur. Is it consensual voyeurism because they know he can hear?

He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes and waits for the voices in his head to abate. From the room through the wall he hears Derek's murmur and the occasional interjection from Chris. In his head he hears them, too; Chris calling after him "come back soon!" and "night, Will, love you!" and "I missed you!" And Derek, handing him a coffee or a bagel or something as innocuous as a hat and scarf with the tags ripped off with nary a word but, occasionally, "Chill."

Will pulls the extra pillow over his face and leaves it, blocking out light from the street and muffling their voices, as he muddles his way back to sleep.

Will notices too much now. Chris Chow is the most honest person he has ever met, and he uses the word "love" more liberally than anyone Will has ever met, either. (But he means it every time. He loves the Sharks and he loves Derek Nurse and he loves his work friends and he loves his great-grandmother. And, apparently, he loves William Poindexter, too.)

Nursey's affection is harder to swallow or even conceive of. Will was raised on the mantra, "There's no such thing as a free lunch," and he distrusts even innocuous gifts at first blush. He has always trusted things he could do with his hands. Things someone built with their hands. Less so, Burberry.

\----------

They agree to exchange Christmas presents the morning of New Years Eve, after Will has been to visit his family, after Chris and Derek return from the Chows' in California. When Will knocks on the door at nine AM, the agreed upon time, Derek answers in his pajama pants with a groan that speaks volumes.

"Who does this at six in the morning?" he whispers, narrowing his eyes at Will.

Will blinks. "It's nine."

"It's six in California," Derek hisses. "I've been betrayed." He turns away from the door, leaving it open for Will, and disappears back into the bedroom.

Will comes in and shuts the door behind himself. He nestles four wrapped presents under the tree, joining several already there. It's a fake tree, of course, because the apartment has been empty for ten days, but Derek has an essential oil diffuser set up nearby dispersing Christmas-themed scents. Something like sage and peppermint?

Chris comes out into the living room sleep-rumpled but awake in an oversize Sharks hoodie. "Hi, Will! We missed you!" He gives Will a hug and Will clings.

"Missed you, too," he says gruffly. "Derek go back to bed?"

Chris laughs and heads to the coffee pot. "Nah, he wishes. He'll be out in a minute. Jet lag always hits him really hard."

Will follow him into the kitchen and sets a basket on the table. "Scones," he explains.

Chris grins.

Sure enough, Nursey emerges right about the time the coffee finishes brewing, looking marginally more awake and making grabby hands at the coffee pot.

"Will brought scones," Chris tells him as he hands him a mug.

Derek looks at Will, looks at the scones, looks at the coffee. "Must be dreaming," he says with a sleepy smile. "It's a Christmas miracle."

They settle in with coffee and scones in the living room, sitting on the floor near the tree. Derek fiddles with his phone, playing the Peanuts christmas album from a bluetooth speaker above the television.

"Who wants to go first?" Chris asks. "Presents!"

"What's past is prologue," Derek intones.

Chris rolls his eyes. "So you want Will to open yours?" he says drily.

Derek firmly avoids eye contact with either of them but hands Will a thin, flat object wrapped in shiny polka dotted wrapping paper. "Don't -" he starts and stops. "It's fine if you don't like it," he says in a tone that suggests it is not fine at all. "Just open it."

Chris watches Will avidly as he carefully peels the tape up at the edges.

Derek groans, "You're one of those people, Will, just open it. You’re killing me."

Will doesn’t let Derek rush him. The slow, careful unwrapping is habit so he can reuse the paper. It’s evident from the back first that it’s a book, and then that it’s a children’s book.

He turns it over and it’s a book of Derek’s that he hasn’t seen before. He has time for the briefest confusion but Derek starts talking.

“It’s not, um, out yet, I mean, that’s an early copy, so… It’s going to get a full run, if -”

Chris elbows him and he stops talking while Will looks. The cover of the book is a red-headed man holding a fire extinguisher and it’s called “Everyday Hero.”

He opens it up. The illustrations are clearly Lardo’s - Will owns enough of Derek’s and Lardo’s books to be able to see that - but the style isn’t quite the same, a little more abstract. The characters are adults rather than kids, like in most of his books, but the wording and design make it evidently a children’s book.

Derek fidgets as Will opens the book. He taps his fingers against his foot the entire time Will is reading.

It starts out with a character resembling Derek Nurse himself (facial features reduced to suggestive lines) sitting slumped at a desk with a laptop. _This is Derek. For his job, he writes books._

The next picture is Derek at the stove, staring down at a smoking pot of something clearly burnt. _There are lots of things Derek isn’t very good at._

A character resembling Chris joins him on the next page. _Luckily, Derek has friends who help him. Chris is his best friend. Even grown-ups have best friends!_

_Chris can do things Derek can’t, like cook and write computer programs. For his job, he writes software._ On that page, the picture is the two men eating pizza at a square table.

In the next picture, the oven itself is smoking and bent out of shape. _They are both bad at fixing broken things. The oven breaks a lot!_

The next page is just a large picture with dialogue bubbles: Derek and Chris waving to each other from across the center spine. The speech bubble above Derek’s head reads, _“Have a good day! I love you!”_ and the bubble above Chris’s head says, _“I love you! Bye!”_

They’re slumped on the couch watching TV on the next page. Derek and Chris are best friends. The facing page is just a picture of a door and a callout reading _Knock, Knock!_

The next picture is a red-headed man. Will doesn’t recognize himself immediately but he makes the connection with the text. _This is Will. He just moved in next door._

_Will comes over for dinner because grown-ups need friends, too._ Now, all three of them eating pizza at the small, square table.

The next illustration shows Will scratching his head and looking at the squat, smoking oven. _Will is good at fixing things! He even knows how to fix the oven._ In the next illustration, he’s fixing the oven.

_Derek thinks Will is their friend, too._ All three of them playing a board game.

_Derek still isn’t good at cooking._ Derek, standing next to a broken (again) oven.

_Will is still good at fixing ovens, too!_ Will fixing the oven and glaring at Derek.

The next illustration is spread across two pages, too, and this time shows Derek and Chris on one side of the page, a doorway across the spine, and Will on the other side. _“See you! Love you!”_ Derek says. _“Goodnight! Love you!”_ Chris says. Will on the other page waves to them.

The next four pages are only a sequence of illustrations. Derek or Chris breaks the oven; Will fixes the oven, repeat. 

_Chris tries to fix the oven, but he doesn’t know how._ Chris kneeling by the oven.

The next picture is Chris drawing back from the oven and a the stovetop on fire. There’s a fire alarm in the illustration beeping. _You have to be careful fixing things! Fire is very dangerous._

_Will is good at fixing ovens, even when they are on fire. Will knows all about fire safety._ In this illustration, Will is holding a fire extinguisher over the smoking stove, but the fire is out.

_“Don’t fix the oven again,” Will jokes with Chris._ This picture is again of the three men eating at the small, square table.

_Will is Derek’s hero._ Just a drawing of Will. Surprisingly realistic.

The last picture is another illustration of them eating at the table, but it’s like a photograph taken from the level of the table, focused on three faces. _Will is Derek’s hero and one of his best friends. Derek wasn’t sure because Will never said it, but now he knows. When Will fixes everything Derek breaks, every time, that’s Will saying, “I love you.”_

Will is blushing by the time he finishes the book. Derek hasn’t been able to look at his face. Chris is watching them both and holding his breath unconsciously.

Will reaches out and wraps his hand around Derek’s arm and tugs, leaning in. Their eyes barely meet before he’s kissing him, a kiss that seems to last and last, time slowing and stretching sticky around the moment.

The quiet is broken when Chris gasps and slaps a hand up to cover his mouth, his wide grin. Derek is still dumbstruck and Will flushes dark again as he looks at Chris. “I -” he starts. “I do, you know,” he says. “Love you, both of you. You are my best friends, so -” He stops again.

“Yes,” Derek says loudly to fill the silence, shoving words out quickly. “I know you - because we’re friends - it -”

“I know I don’t know how to do this,” Will interrupts, “I never did.” He takes a deep breath. “But Derek, I really like you. I mean, I want to date you, if you want.” He holds eye contact with Derek for a second, face burning, then turns to face Chris, who is already beaming, and takes another deep, steadying breath. “I want to date you, too,” he tells him.

Chris’s face goes from barely suppressed glee to surprise to delight. “Are you - really? Why?”

Derek snorts.

Will averts his eyes, glances to the side and back again. “You’re amazing, Chris. You’re the most genuinely kind person I’ve ever met. You make me believe in human kindness again.”

Chris springs to his feet and pulls Will to his feet and into his chest for an enthusiastic hug. The hug turns into a kiss that lasts long enough that Derek catcalls them mockingly and they pull apart.

Will hasn’t stopped blushing since he started Derek’s book. “Is that a yes?” he asks finally, looking between Derek and Chris.

Nursey catches his eye and holds it. “Yes,” he says simply.

Chris leans his head comfortingly against Will’s shoulder. “Of course.”


End file.
